I personally can’t wait to be old. I love the crow’s feet cracking around my eyes, I think it’s a sign of wisdom (that’s what I’m telling myself anyway). I am losing my hair though and it’s killing me! My friends tell me not to worry about it and if need be, just shave it off. I can’t. I have Moliosis (a term, which I coined, when you have an obscene amount of moles all over your body) and if I shaved my head at least 4 giant moles would be revealed. Moliosis is a disease, and we all know how diseases make it hard to get laid. So I hide it under my hair (the little I have left anyway). This brings up the question of “To Tell or Not to Tell?” Am I obligated to tell a guy that I have Moliosis before I sleep with him? What if he calls me a monster and kicks me out? I’d die. But then again, maybe he’d be really sensitive and say, “Don’t worry babe, we can make this work, now get undressed.” I’d die all over his face.
You can’t find dirty bars like that in Los Angeles… I miss New York… Well, I was there for 3 days six years ago, but whatever. I remember walking out of any subway and immediately getting dwarfed by the surroundings. I felt so small, but big at the same time. Big because I could do anything I wanted and nobody would care. I grew up in a town with 1600 people, nothing went unnoticed, so I really appreciated this feeling of insignificance that New York gave me.
Now that the oil on the surface appears to be dissipating, the notion of a recovery from the spill, repeated by politicians, strikes some here as short-sighted. The gulf had been suffering for decades before the explosion of the Deepwater Horizon rig on April 20.
“Hey baby! Momma’s commin’. Oh, you’re such a good girl!”—My new neighbor in Apt 6 to her dog. I heard keys jingling so I looked out the peep hole like a pervert. She was with her hot boyfriend and they had just gotten home from the gym. No new gay neighbors for me. Just a healthy pair of breeders.
I finally had some quality time with Louie. Since I’ve been seeing The Latino, I haven’t had the chance to hang out with him. So we met up around 10:30 last night to have a quick drink at my place before heading out. We were being stoopid and shit. I love how there’s always something happening in WeHo. We got to witness straight girls gasping over the “Human Chandelier” (one gay tugging on another gays testicles). In the end, the blue haired bottom had a steel suitcase hanging from his juevos!
Last night went well. I hadn’t seen The Latino in over a week, so I was a little nervous because normally at this point in a relationship I like to start finding ways to end it. Anyways, we arranged to meet outside his apartment by the side door. Well, there are 2 side doors. I stood at one and waited. Through the dark I saw a guy standing on what seemed to be a balcony. He was staring at me. I got nervous and looked away but then looked back a second later out of curiosity. I began fantasizing what I’d do if the guy came down stairs and tried to cruise me. Would I tell him, “Sorry pig, I’m taken! Keep walking!” or would I run to the bushes with him? I’m not a cheater. I’d never run to the bushes with a stranger. Then I started thinking what it’d be like to do sicky things in bushes and how painful it’d be if a twig jabbed somewhere delicate. By this point the guy on the balcony was waving to me and yelling, “Jim!” I squinted and wondered how he knew my name? Oh shit, it was The Latino and it wasn’t a balcony, it was the stoop to the other entrance. Oops. As I walked towards him, I saw two other gays guys entering the complex. We were walking in at the same time. Anxiety kicked in and a shit load of things rushed through my head… “Should I kiss him in front of his neighbors? What if he doesn’t want me to? What’s the P.D.A. rules for a month relationship? But we haven’t seen each other for a while, so we have to kiss hello. It’s law. Fuck it, I’m kissing him.” As I walk up the stairs towards him, he says in a whiny voice, “You can’t remember which door?! You’ve been here before.” I snap back, “Yeah, ONCE. I just finally memorized my social security number. Don’t get too upset.” We kiss.
The past month, this family has been staying with my sister and I in our tiny apartment as they desperately wait to raise funds to pay for a life-saving liver transplant for 8-month-old Baby Daniel who suffers from bilary atresia (his body is filling up with bile as the liver can’t process it. He also cannot have any pain medication so he feels everything). We met Ilda and Daniel, his parents, by chance at Children’s Hospital, but they will be a part of our lives forever now.
Time is running out. And the only thing standing between this baby living and dying is money.
KTLA did this news story on them yesterday.The family needs to raise $250,000 to pay for the transplant (his parents are liver matches). So far, through fundraisers in Belize and Hollywood, the total donations are at $83,430.65
I just got off the phone with The Latino. We’re meeting up tonight for dinner. I’m meeting him around 10 p.m. Dinner isn’t served at that hour; sex is. He said that he’s been craving the sauce I put in the lemon herb chicken that I made 2 weeks ago.
“It takes too long to make,” I told him (well, it actually takes Manny at work 5 minutes to throw the sauce together because that’s how I made it last time).
”I want that sauce! It was delicious,” he said.
”Just the sauce? What will you put it on?” I asked.
“Your balls. And I’m going to lick it off. Then you’re gonna do the same.”
What?!?! I started laughing. There wasn’t laughter on his end. The thought of him pouring hot garlic-lemon-herb sauce all over my juevos seemed ridiculous, not sexy. He really likes to incorporate food into the bedroom. Last time he wanted me to give him a blow job while he ate a blueberry cupcake.
This is the title of an article in the Whidbey News Times, my Mom’s local paper. How much fun does that sound?! Vacation Bible Schools… Can’t grasp it. I really don’t think vacation and Bible should be mentioned in the same sentence. Dr. O told me that the Catholic church claims that if they can “shape” you for 5 years, they’ll have you for the rest of your life. I was baptised, went to caticism every week until I was 12, took the body of Chirst and drank his blood and then confessed my little heart out after. They had me for way more than 5 years. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to let it go? And is it even worth it?
“Have you become the creepy old man at the party who stands in the corner taking candid pictures of people and occasionally of himself?”—Me, asking one of my alter egos. The conversation lasted for about an hour and now I have a headache.
Two very attractive men (mid 30’s) just unloaded a mattress from a Toyota truck and carried it into the apartment next door. I’m praying it wasn’t just two bros unloading the heavy things while their chicks stay at home wrapping dishware in newspaper. I want more gays in the neighborhood! I met my first gay neighbor the other night. I was helping my friends unload their car when he was walking by with his shoulder bag. “How tall are you?” I asked as he passed by. He stopped and looked at me weirdly, or intrigued. With gays you never know if they’re cruising or lookin’ to slit your throat. “I’m 5’10’’. Why?” he asked with curiosity. “Oh, no big deal, there’s just a killer on the loose in the neighborhood and he’s 5’8’’, so you’re all good. Be careful out there,” I said. Long story short, his name is Patrice (either he was born a Patrick or he’s foreign) and he lives two houses down. It’s good to know where your gays are, in case you need to borrow an egg or some top shelf liquor.
“What about your father, how does he feel about your sexuality?” Dr. O asked. “He passed away 2 years ago,” I said. Dr. O has been dealing with gay patients for a long time. In fact, he says he’s one of the first shrinks to explore the gay community. I can only assume that the question that came out of his mouth next was from years of experience: “Were you relieved when your Dad died?” My eyes welled up. I flashed back to the day my brother called and told me. I remember hanging up the phone and laying there for a minute and thinking “well, now it’s officially over.” What? I was relieved. This made me sad. But then I thought about it. I wasn’t relieved because Daddy never understood me, or hated me, or threw me down the stairs. No. I was relieved because the man had been suffering/dying from cancer for the last 10 years of his life and was now finally at peace. No more suffering. I was relieved for good reasons.
3 years ago as I flew back to L.A. after visiting my family for Thanksgiving, I sat on the plane massaging my neck. My entire body ached from the intense jaw grinding during the sleepless nights in my old bed. I’d lay there, going over in my head all these imaginary ways my family was judging me, and then I’d think of ways to defend myself. It was exhausting! So by the time I left, my vacation was more draining than a week at work. On the plane I was reading an article in ELLE about Penelope Cruz. I love her! She’s so underrated. Sure, in English she gets a lot of shit for her acting, but in her native tongue the bitch is BRILLIIANT (she deserved the Academy Award for “Volver,” not for “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”). “Volver” is on my Top 5 Movies of All Time list. YOU MUST WATCH IT! It’s got suspense, beauty, originality, and classic Spanish culture. Well, she said something in the article that really rang true to me in that moment. It was along the lines of, “My life can’t be affected by the judgments of others.” When I got home, I took a piece of green string and tied it around my ankle to remind me of this quote. I told myself that when the string falls off, it’ll be a sign that I’ve officially accepted that quote. Wel, today the string fell off! Thanks Pene!
Shit! There’s a killer on the loose in Beverly Hills! I moved here from Venice hoping to escape the killers. Oh well, I guess you’re never safe. Now I find myself looking at every 5’8” man and running. Last night I was walking to my car and a neighbor, who filled the description, waved to me. I got startled and ran. I hate being nervous. This weekend, some close friends are coming to visit from Vegas and we’re planning on having a stakeout. I wanna catch this pervert (before he stabs me).
Last week, while laying in his asshole full of jizz, The Latino asked if I wanted to join him and his visiting 15-year-old nephew on a trip to Magic Mountain. Maybe he was feeling generous and inviting, but either way he asked that I joined them on a trip to the roller coaster capital of the world. So I blocked all other plans for Magic Mountain on Wednesday. Well, yesterday I called him and he was very short. He said, “Yeah, tomorrow I plan on spending the day with my nephew alone, just some quality time together.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he was disinviting me. Even as a second language learner, he was very clear with his words. I played along and was cool until he said, “Just think of it as the whole FUNdraiser thing.” That’s when I got a little annoyed and the bitchiness settled in. See, I wanted him to join me for the FUNdraiser, and he didn’t want to come. But I WANTED to go to Magic Mountain (not because I like roller coasters, but BUT I LIKED HIM). I questioned him in Spanish (and when I question in Spanish it’s only because I’m upset) how this was the same as the FUNdraiser situation. He said, “You wanted to do your thing and I want to do my thing.” I wanted to rip off his head and shit down the hole. They were‘t the same. But this visit from his nephew is special—it’s the first time he’s going to tell his nephew that he’s gay. In fact, he thinks his nephew is gay and he wants some time alone to bond on the whole gay issue. I understand that if I was there it’d only make things more complicated and I don’t like complications. But life is a roller coaster, so let’s ride it together.
I hate it when people use those words to describe something stupid. It really gets on my nerves. Don’t be foolish and don’t be an idiot.
I totally agree. BUUUUUT there is a thin line between retarded and gay. How many times have you questioned someones sexuality and then found out they were really just retarded? It happens to me all the time. He’s so nice and laughs at everything you say and loves cake. Gay or retarded? Gawd, so confusing.